


The Day He Shut That Rocket Door

by stealing-jasons-job (changingthefairy_tale)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Becho, Bellamy mourning Clarke on The Ring, Bellarke, Bellarke Endgame, Canon Compliant, Did I Mention Angst?, F/M, Murphy ships Bellarke, One Shot, POV Bellamy Blake, POV Echo, Post-Episode: s04e13 Praimfaya, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changingthefairy_tale/pseuds/stealing-jasons-job
Summary: Inspired by thistumblr post by @historyofbellarkeOr the one where Bellamy finds Clarke's skybox cell on The Ring after Praimfaya. Lots of Bellarke angst. <3
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Echo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129





	The Day He Shut That Rocket Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [historyofbellarke](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=historyofbellarke).



Bellamy’s breath caught when he first entered the room. 

They’d been on The Ring for just over a week, and they needed an inventory of all supplies that were left behind. He’d volunteered for the task, wanting to be alone. When he was alone, he didn’t have to pretend to be okay. He didn’t have to fake holding it together — and to be honest, he didn’t think the others were buying it much anyway. 

His hands were full of random supplies. A few blankets, a flashlight, one small first aid kit, a beanie he thought may have been Miller’s from his time in the skybox. 

Everything he was holding clattered to the floor as he stood just inside the doorway to his final room of the day. 

Almost every surface was covered in drawings, and his heart stuttered in his chest. 

_Clarke._

His hands skimmed over the walls as he took in her drawings. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her handiwork, but this was a window into the girl she’d been before the ground. Before the 100... before him. 

God, he missed her. 

They’d spent time apart before. Hell, she was gone months after Mount Weather. But this past week had been the hardest of his life, and he couldn’t imagine the coming weeks or even months would be any easier. 

In such a short time, she’d left such an imprint on his life, on his heart. This short, stubborn blonde who refused to take his bullshit and fought him on everything. Well, she’d fought her way right into his soul, making a home for herself there before he’d even had the chance to fully realize it. 

And now she was gone, forever. 

He crouches into the middle of the floor, grazing the picture there. Trees shoot from the ground, framing a crescent moon. It was a common theme in all of her drawings: Earth. In all of her dreams about the ground, it was peaceful. 

No grounders or mountain men or AIs trying to hunt them down. No war or pain or suffering. She’d dreamed of an Eden, and he hated the universe for giving her hell instead. 

As he leaned over the floor, trying to imagine her in this room spending every waking hour drawing, a tear escaped. When he tried to wipe it away from the scene, it smudged a few stars. 

And now he’d ruined one of the only things he had left of her. 

_It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me._ He couldn’t stop thinking it as he curled into a ball on the floor and let himself cry until he couldn’t feel the pain anymore, until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. 

Hours had passed before Murphy found him, barely conscious in a fetal position next to that drawing. He’d brought one of the rations they’d brought with him on the ship, and he set it down near Bellamy’s head. But Bellamy couldn’t find the energy or the motivation to move to eat it. 

Thankfully Murphy didn’t say anything, just sat across from him with his back against the wall. 

They stayed in companionable silence, Murphy taking stock of the room like Bellamy had from his place on the floor. At one point, Bellamy could have sworn he saw Murphy shed a tear of his own. 

That was what finally made him get up. Clarke wouldn’t have wanted him to wallow in self-pity over her death. No, she’d made him promise that he would look after the others, be the leader. The head. 

He took a deep, cleansing breath and steeled himself from the hurt. As he stood, Murphy stood, too. The two men look at each other. 

“For what’s it’s worth,” he says, a hand clapping on Bellamy’s shoulder. “I’m pissed at myself for never telling her, either.” 

“Telling her what?” 

“How much she meant to me.” 

Murphy had always been one to see through him and Clarke’s relationship, even from the very beginning. Bellamy tried to give him a small smile, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Now we get to show her,” he mumbled, taking one last look at the art-covered walls before walking side by side with Murphy back to the main dining area with Monty, Harper, Raven, Emori and Echo. 

*****6 years later*****

Echo knew she shouldn’t have opened the door. She knew the moment her brain made the decision to do it that she would regret it. But _jok_ , she was too curious not to. 

The past six years on The Ring had been challenging at best. It had taken over a week for Bellamy to even acknowledge her existence. Another three years for him to forgive her. And another year and a half before he’d looked at her one night and kissed her. 

They were happy, at peace. He was different in space than he had been on the ground. Echo didn’t know if it was the fact that they weren’t in a war anymore, or something else. But he was calmer, more collected, quieter. 

The little she knew him on the ground, he had always been surrounded by people. There’d been this fire about him, something all-consuming and enigmatic. She’d been drawn to him even then, but she knew better than to try and get involved. He was too emotional, too hot-headed, too much feeling for someone trained to feel nothing at all. 

He was always at 110% on the ground. Yelling or laughing or fighting. Fighting for his people, fighting for his sister, fighting for Clarke. 

Clarke. 

Over the years, he’d never mentioned her to Echo. Not once. In fact, no one ever mentioned her — aside from Murphy occasionally when he wanted to get Bellamy to do something. 

And every time Murphy did that, Bellamy would stalk away to this room that Echo found herself in now. She’d always wondered what was in here, what could possibly provide him more comfort and solace than his friends, his girlfriend. 

Now she knew. 

The walls were covered in drawings, and suddenly the dots were connecting. Why the name Clarke was like a curse, never to be muttered in mixed company. Why without fail involking her name made Bellamy do whatever Murphy asked him to right before sending him into an antisocial spiral for the rest of the day and into the night. Why he sometimes didn’t come back to bed, staying here instead. Why this room was off-limits. 

She’d never seen it firsthand, but she knew that Clarke was an artist. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these must have been hers. 

Echo had no interest in looking at these. She didn’t particularly care for Wanheda, though she didn’t dare voice those opinions to any of her companions on The Ring. Even Emori seemed to revere the blonde sky princess. 

But she couldn’t make herself leave. Instead, she took inventory of the drawings. Echo had always assumed Clarke had known Bellamy before their ship fell from the sky. They were always too close, too in sync on the ground to not have. But he wasn’t in a single photo, nor were any of the other skaikru faces she knew. 

She wandered over to the small cot and bedside table in the corner of the room. A blanket was haphazardly thrown across the bed, obviously recently used. And one of Bellamy’s favorite old Earth books peeked out from under the edge of the pillow. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” the voice behind her almost made her jump, rousing her from her thoughts. 

She turned, Murphy leaned in the doorway. 

“I could say the same to you,” she shot back defensively. He just shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. Murphy walked around, looking at the walls as if visiting an old friend and not as if discovering these images for the first time. 

“He’s never going to stop loving her, you know.” He said it casually, as if commenting on Monty’s recent algae batch and not attacking the one good thing Echo had in her life these days. 

“You don’t know that.” 

One side of his mouth lifted in that irritating smirk Murphy was always wearing as he just shook his head at her. 

Echo knew that Bellamy had been close with Clarke. Anyone with eyes could have seen that. She also knew that Bellamy blamed himself for her death, just as he blamed himself for everything that ever went wrong on that stupid rock they used to call home. 

But he and Clarke had only known each other for less than a year. With time, that connection and grief would fade. And Echo would be by his side when it did, when he was finally fully healed. 

Murphy stops walking when he gets back to the doorway, pausing to look Echo in the eye. 

“A part of him died the day he shut that rocket door, okay? No matter how much you think you love him or think he’s changed... a part of Bellamy’s soul will always be on the ground right where he left her.” 

His tone wasn’t malicious, but the words stung all the same. 

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, angry that he would bring it up. Her and Murphy were not close. They were arguably the least close of those on The Ring. 

He pursed his lips before giving a sad shrug. “I’d want to know if I was going to be playing second fiddle to a ghost for the rest of my life.” 

He disappeared down the hall before she could come up with a rebuttal. 

Their conversation stuck with her over the following weeks, always in the back of her mind. And when they decided it was time to go back to the ground almost a month later, she started thinking about it even more. 

“Nothing will change when we’re on the ground, right?” she asked. 

“Nothing will change,” he’d promised, kissing her sweetly. 

She should have known it was a lie. 

“Clarke knew you would come.” 

The second her name came out of that little girl’s mouth, Echo knew Murphy had been right. 

It was like a switch flipped in Bellamy. That fire that Echo remembered from over six years ago reignited behind his eyes. In an instant, he was that same man she remembered meeting inside the cage. Jump first, think later. 

She watched from the Rover as he showed the soldiers that mug, offering up the only leverage they had over these people for one life. 

“She must be pretty important to you.” 

“She is.” 

Echo sat there as he risked everything for the woman he mourned for 2,199 days in that damn room, the flames in his eyes growing by the second.

And there was no doubt in her mind that she was going to end up burned. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay if you hate me. 
> 
> ___ 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos, comments, thoughts and feedback are much appreciated. Come hang out with me on Tumblr @changingthefairy-tale!


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